


The Second Fallen

by SaritAadam



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Mirror Universe, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritAadam/pseuds/SaritAadam
Summary: For the first time since James T. Kirk became captain of the ISS Enterprise, him and Spock are alone in the same room. And it doesn't go like any of them plannedWritten for Trektober 2020, with the prompt Mirror Universe and First Kiss
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Janice Rand, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Trektober 2020





	The Second Fallen

I am disturbed in my meditation by the timer I have set, notifying me that I need to get ready for my appointment with Captain Kirk.  
I put back my uniform, hoping the concise meditation I had to take will be enough to keep my control and conceal the disdain the man inspires me.  
The captain has met me earlier during the day, while I was playing check with one of my guards. He tried to sneak on me, and did not lose his composure when I turned around before he wanted his presence to be known. I have never before met a person capable of exuding an aura of authority and strong assurance, to the point of arrogance, with such consistency. Captain Pike was incapable of that, as were the various admirals and political leaders I have met during my career. In that aspect, my current captain is quite unique.  
Captain Kirk invaded my personal space, and we had a brief exchange around checks, leading to an invitation to come play in his quarters.  
“Just to see if you're fit for me,” he said, with a ferocious smile and a spark in his eyes, making me question if he was talking about the game.  
I arrive at the captain's quarters, and I let the guards know the purpose of my visit, my own escort taking their station on the opposite wall.  
The two officers exchange a look and a shrug before one of them activates the buzzer. Immediately, I perceive two voices inside the cabin, exchanging quick phrases, but even with my Vulcan hearing, I am not able to understand what is said.  
“Come!”  
The Captain is standing in front of the alcove leading to the sleeping area. Despite the dim light, I discern the sweat rolling along his bare chest, the lump in his pants, the movement of a woman behind him hastily putting her uniform on.  
But, in the face of the compromising situation, the Captain's reaction is not one of shame or embarrassment. He is merely looking at me with crossed arms and a smirk.  
“I was here for our appointment,” I eventually say, “but I can come back later if-”  
“I haven't forgotten why you're here,” he cuts me, his smirk deepening. “You're punctual.”  
“It is the time you had chosen.”  
In the corner of my eyes, I notice Yeoman Rand, now fully dressed, leaving the alcove and going for the door. She is no more acknowledging me as I am acknowledging her.  
“Yeoman,” the Captain calls her, “make us some coffee before leaving.”  
“I do not wish for coffee,” I say, trying to preserve the woman from further humiliation.  
“Well, I do.”  
“Yes, Captain,” she answers after a beat of silence.  
Yeoman Rand has been the first to fall for the captain, and in his bed. She has been allowed a few months of romantic happiness, but already, the Captain is getting bored by her. I saw it happen all the time with Captain Pike and the senior staff. Female crewmembers seem more inclined to be drawn to them than to the rest of the staff. I wonder if those relationships are worth the inevitable rejections and harassment following them.  
Captain Kirk shows me a chair, and I sit down while he fetches the check board and sets it on his desk.  
Yeoman Rand puts the Captain's coffee next to him. I see his hand reaching for her tight, and she steps away, avoiding the touch. But the Enterprise's captain doesn't take rejection. He grabs her waist and pulls her on his lap, kissing her violently despite her protest.  
I avert my gaze, giving the Yeoman a rest of decency. Her sounds of protest mute into moans, indicating his ability to put his hands where it pleases him.  
After one minute and forty-nine seconds, the noises stop.  
“Thank you Yeoman, that will be all,” his voice is flat and composed.  
I never saw Yeoman Rand walking as fast.  
And now, it is just the Captain and me, alone off duty. Precisely the situation I have avoided since he set foot on the Enterprise.  
James T. Kirk has the reputation to be a dangerous man, the tendency his enemies have to vanish unsettles anyone remotely important in Starfleet as well as those who inspire to be. And it took only one shift on the bridge, one true act of command from him, for me to realize the danger he represents goes beyond that. The man is a brute, just how Starfleet likes them. But he is also more. He has an intellect that most of the others armed hands of the empire lack, and that alone legitimates his arrogance and the aura of invincibility he carries.  
Yes, nothing good will come from a more than professional relationship with this man.  
And yet, I am here, in his quarter, with him draped on a chair, still half naked, within reach, vulnerable.  
“Checkmate,” I announce for the third time of the evening.  
“You're not half bad, mister Spock.”  
“Thank you, sir. I believe yourself to also be an adequate player when you wish.”  
“Are you saying that I don't want to best you?”  
“Not at all, captain, but I sense that your mind is elsewhere.”  
“So is yours, so I thought we would be on equal footing.”  
“Sir?”  
The captain straightens and chooses to ignore my question. “Why did you avert your eyes when I kissed Rand? Are you a prude?”  
“I would not describe myself with those terms. However, what you did to her was more than a kiss, and I did not wish to intrude on your privacy.”  
“If I'd care about your presence, I wouldn't have done it in front of you.”  
“I do not believe Yeoman Rand feels the same as you.”  
“What, you care about the bitch's feelings? Is it what you want me to believe?” He is waiting for a response I do not give. “Is it also your excuse for leaving when I started being occupied with the whore, back on Argelius?”  
I stay silent under his scrutinizing eyes.  
“Do I need to always have a woman in my arms to be protected from you?”  
“I do not understand your meaning.”  
The Captain holds my gaze, and keeps it as he rises. He moves his body like a predator, ready to thrust his teeth in my flesh and rip me apart. Metaphorically and literally. But I am not impressed. I stay sitting, giving him a cold Vulcan glare that scared off most men. But not him. He is getting closer, coming to me, no doubting his ability to do of me what he desires.  
“Oh, but you do Mister Spock, because I see how you look at me. How you have been watching me almost since I arrived on the ship. Did you believe I wouldn't notice? That I am stupid enough to not know what those looks mean?”  
His hands are on the back of my chair, enclosing me between his arms. His words are whispered against my face. His eyes are still in mine, shining, giving the illogical sensation of piercing through the Vulcan facade and seeing my soul.  
I do not as much as flinch.  
“So, Mister Spock, do you want to make the first move?”  
I do.  
My hands are gripping his waist and are bringing him on my laps, my lips taking his. His struggle grants me a better grasp, sticking his body between mine and his desk. He opens his mouth, certainly to protest, admitting my tongue inside him.  
I am aware of my actions becoming more harsh and savage. This is the way of my people when the fire burns in our blood. And I let mine, who I have carefully contained inside me, surface and roam freely, consuming control and logic. There is no use for it now that he has discovered the truth.  
I desire him. I have since his first true act of command. For all that his emotional, violent outburst repulse me, I am attracted by his intellect, hypnotized by his confidence.  
A blade is against my throat, and my senses come back to me.  
From the corner of my eyes, I catch glimpses of the dagger, recognizing the weapon the fleet gives to the female staff. He took it from Yeoman Rand when he abused her. The only moment I wasn't watching him.  
I let his face go. He is no longer smirking, and has lost all his assurance.  
"This is what you want?" he asks with astonishment.  
"What did you think I wanted?"  
"Wh- I- To kill me! To take my place!"  
"I have no desire to be captain."  
We are looking at each other, trying to determine what to do with this misunderstanding.  
I am awfully aware of the steel against my carotid, and the violent ways my captain has dealt with inconvenience in the past. I am also aware that I only need to increase the pressure on his hips by three point zero two percent to break his bones, and that I am able to do so while bleeding out.  
Finally, the dagger is off my throat. The Captain is holding it in a non-threatening way, between his thumb and index, blade toward the floor. He is smiling again.  
“This could be fun.”  
I hear the dagger hit the carpet, but I don't pay it any mind. My eyes don't seem to be able to part from the hazel ones, and I realize I have fallen.  
He moves under my finger, I allow him to, putting himself back on my laps, dominating me again. But, for once, there is no threat in his demeanor. He softly strokes my goat, cups my jaw, tilts his head in a way that could be qualified as cute.  
“Let's try again, but gentler this time, okay Spock?”  
I nod, not knowing how else to react to so much kindness, especially coming from this man.  
He kisses me, and it tastes like coffee and his - or Yeoman Rand? - gloss. And it's tender. So tender that I feel my resolve soften. He kisses me, and I allow myself one night of weakness and illogicality.  
For one night, I will believe that a relationship with him is worth the inevitable rejection, and all that will follow it. For one night, I will even believe that there is no rejection waiting ahead. That he is, despite the facts, not a brute. That he will not kill me if I ever become an inconvenience. And that I will not do the same to him.  
For one night, I will believe we can be in love.  
Yes, only for one night.


End file.
